Scam's Rainbow
by TheLastPrototype
Summary: Sometimes it takes a while for us to realise who we were meant for. And then, suddenly, we do. And you ask yourself how you were ever able to live without the light that makes waking up worth it. SamScam Oneshot, pretty cheesy, but hey, I like happy endings, mkay?


Even though I probably shouldn't have, I wrote this oneshot because my brain was completely fried from revision and exams and stuff. Plus, I needed a break from writing my other SSC fic. It was just too muuuch. So here we are. I really hope you enjoy the story, because it was kind of a new thing for me. R and R, because, no, I cannot tell whether you liked it if you just read it. Don't be lazy, folks. Make a fangirl happy.

_Note: Edited title, changed it from 'Sam's Rainbow' to 'Scam's Rainbow', because KraziiePyrozHavemoreFun was totally right - it's more fitting to the content of the story. She is, after all, his rainbow. So thanks, Kraziie, for making that happen :)_

**Disclaimer:**

**Totally Spies is not mine. It belongs to Marathon Inc.**

**And neither is Scam. He belongs to Sam. But that's okay, because she belongs to him, too :)**

* * *

I saw her three times before she met me, before I really met her. Green, yellow, and red.

* * *

The first time was green, like her eyes. When she cries, her eyes become almost sea-coloured, by the way. I thought I should mention that, because it's something I keep noticing. She always seems to be crying when I'm around. Which I guess is sort of sad, isn't it? But I do love that colour. The green.

It was spring, and the world was blooming. She was blooming. The park was blooming. I was drawing again. It was my first time drawing since Ash died, so it was sort of important to me. I remember I was thinking of drawing the trees, because they looked so dark, and mysterious, and I didn't really feel like drawing anything man-made, because that seemed disrespectful towards Ash, or anything bright, like the flower-flooded fields, because I had just finished mourning.

I was staring intently at one of the largest trees, a beautiful old oak, when she dropped out of the branches, suddenly, onto a lush bed of leaves. Hidden in the shadows, I watched her open a tiny compact mirror and whisper into it - some kind of crazy person? It would certainly explain the outfit, which, though very flattering, was completely inappropriate; she was wearing a green catsuit, it's emerald shine clashing wondrously with the dark hues of the park greenery. I was mesmerised; by her clothes, her furrowed brow, her stern expression - and the hair. Oh, that hair.

I began to feel like a stalker around the time she decided to hide in the bushes to change her clothes. Resurfacing in a pale green summer dress that flattered her curves, Spring - as I had decided to refer to her until I discovered her real name, as I thought it so fitting to describe her warmth, her freshness, her delicious bloom - opened the compact mirror once more and spoke a few sharp words into it. I had begun to doubt her insanity; Spring seemed a lot more sane than most of the women I had met, definitely more sane than Ash. Although I supposed I shouldn't categorize Spring as a woman, as such, since she seemed so very young, though filled with a maturity the likes of which I had never seen before.

Under my wondering gaze, Spring glanced over her shoulder, her deep eyes missing me only by inches, then hurried towards the nearest more populated path, where two girls - her friends? - were awaiting her anxiously. It seemed strange to me, this friendship, as neither of the girls seemed to come even close to Spring in elegance, maturity or intelligence. I halted, stopping myself; how could I already be comparing Spring to others - I couldn't do anything but guess at her intelligence. But somehow, I just knew.

I suppose that, even then, my soul must have recognised a kindred spirit.

* * *

The second time was yellow, like the sun that is no longer mine, because I have found another sun to worship, to look to for light. Spring, who I still thought her to be, was already my sun then, even though I had only seen her once, and she didn't even know that. Just like the sunflowers in the field that was the setting of my second glance at happiness, I turned to her instinctively as they do to the sun. I needed her, just as I need her now. For even then, she was light - light in bursts, light in a magnificent spectrum. Light.

I was lying there. I couldn't even move. The deep blue sky stretched out beyond and above me, and I didn't know which way was up.

Just a few minutes ago, I had killed my first man.

My mind was still drenched in his blood, although his death had been a clean one. Clean and calculated; the beginnings of a style that I would develop through the years, although I didn't know that then. I never was one for gore.

And that, of course, just had to be when I saw her again. After weeks of waiting for her in the park, she decided to show up just as I had become a murderer, a villain, a monster, unworthy of her affection? Looking back, it does not surprise me. She always did have a way of gravitating towards the important moments of my life. Or maybe the importance of my life just had a way of gravitating towards her?

I heard her voice before I saw her. Or rather, I heard her screams. I recognised them instantly, which, now that I think of it, is strange, because I had never actually heard her speak before - in the park, I had been to far away. I sat up fast, faster than I thought possible, considering the dulling numbness of manslaughter that still haunted my bones. I exhaled in relief as I spotted her, far away, through the sunflowers that hid me from sight, and realised that her screams were of the delighted, not the terrified, kind. Then, I registered that she wasn't alone. There was a male with her, an exemplary specimen, as my jealous mind noted pettily, wanting to get up and strangle this- this child who was even less worthy of her time than I, a murderer, was.

But then I saw her face. She was so happy. Her innocence shone around her in a kind of untouchable halo as she dissolved once more into shrieks intermersed with laughter. I wanted to touch her face, to wrap my hands in her wild hair and stare into those eyes. I wanted for her to never be broken. Then, I remembered the crime I had committed.

Maybe _I_ would be the one to break her - Sun, as I had decided to call her from now on. I only knew that my feelings for her were stronger than anything I had ever felt before - maybe the only thing strong enough to hurt her, I realised with a start. Sun was able to take care of herself, this was undoubtable to me by now. The boy with her certainly couldn't harm her. Her strength was not just apparent in her flawless physique, but in the fierce stare she fixed on him now, as she readied herself, then took a screaming leap towards him before collapsing on the field in laughter. No, Sun didn't need protection from anyone. From anyone except the monster hiding in the sunflowers. And at that moment, I knew that this monster was no one but me.

* * *

The third time was red. The third time, I called her Scarlet. Because she was there, in the burning house, with her mane of flames shining into the night sky. Wounded, I lay on my stomach, hidden behind a mountain of scorched somethings, and watched as she rescued man after man after man from the blazing building. And I realised that Scarlet was different from Sun and Spring in a way that could not be missed, not even in my delirious, fire-scarred state.

Scarlet was a woman.

Scarlet had seen things no girl should ever see. She had seen the dead. I knew by now that she was completely sane, more so, it appeared, than did her good. I knew that she was a person who saved lives, instead of ending them like I did. But this void between us that no good-doing on my part could ever bridge did not seem like balance to me at the time. It seemed like hopelessness, like the door to happiness and fulfillment that I knew I could never pry open.

But even though I told myself that it would not be, even though I banished her from my thoughts by day, I could not keep her at bay in my dreams. At night, Scarlet was always with me. She was a beacon of fire, and I wanted it, I wanted it so badly. But I could never touch it; it would burn me, burn me with its richness and its goodness and its beauty. Better to stay away. Better to be safe, to keep killing, to stop thinking.

Now, I think: Better? Or was it just easier?

* * *

There are things, of course, that happened between then and now. Things like properly meeting her - not under the best circumstances, I admit. The first few years weren't all that smooth overall, really. But there were good parts.

Things like learning her real name - Samantha, so much better than Scarlet or Sun or Spring. Sa-man-tha. The syllables melt on my tongue.

Things like that first kiss in Venice, when she may have pushed me away and told me she hated me, but I was so happy. Because I saw _it_ in her eyes, and felt it in the soft pressure of her lips.

Yes. There were good parts.

* * *

Samantha wears white as she approaches me. Her body is bathed in light. I smile. I want to kiss her, so, you know what?

I do.

I feel _it_ again, as I have felt it many times before, and will without doubt feel it many times in the future.

The rain has soaked her red red hair, and I bury my face in it. There are things I know now that I did not know before.

Like how happy she makes me.

Like how the gap between us is really a rope that connects us, always.

Like how she completes me.

Like how I can finally complete her, too.

Like how Ash was a distraction.

Like how that _boy_ she liked was a distraction.

Like how her lips taste, and how her hair tickles my neck, and how one glance from her emerald eyes sets my soul on fire.

Like how it feels to have the sun shine on both of us right this moment, as if the world is telling us that what we are doing is not wrong, it's so so so so right.

Like how happy I make her.

She extracts her body from my embrace and points into the sky over my shoulder, a smile flooding her face.

"Look, Tim," she whispers, like it's a secret we share.

"A rainbow."

* * *

All right, I really hope you liked it, because I totally LOVED writing it. Please review, and tell me whether it was good, and if maybe you want me to make this into a longer story, to find out about Ash, and everything that happened in Venice, and stuff. If enough people review, I MIGHT think about it (lol, bribery) :D

Also, don't you just love how all the names he gives her start with S? I didn't even realise that until Scarlet, teehee.

Yours,

TheLastPrototype (aka me.)


End file.
